Kaleidoscope
by Intangibly Yours
Summary: [SomaxErina] Collection of mostly unrelated one-shots. Ratings will vary. Second: Another follow-up to "Whispers." In which Soma is unable to maintain the balance he once had. Rated T.
1. Whispers

**Kaleidoscope - Whispers**

 **Disclaimer:** Erina would get wayyyy more screen time if I owned SnS. But she doesn't.

 **Warning:** This chapter is **_RATED M_** for sexual content! Read at your own discretion.

 **A/N:** This is technically a follow-up to my one-shot, "Whispers," but you don't _really_ have to read it to get the gist of this. It's separate from the original because it's _all_ SomaxErina; love triangle unmentioned.

* * *

He saunters into her room like he's done it a thousand times, and while that may be an exaggeration, it isn't entirely untrue. Whirling around from her desk in the corner, she shoots him an irritated glare before returning to her work. _Probably that essay for our Food Safety and Regulations class_ , he thinks absentmindedly while closing and locking the door behind him.

Her room is dark save for the light shimmering from the lamp on her desk, but it's enough to allow him to navigate through. Unlike his room, hers is pretentiously immaculate, and he doesn't have to worry about tripping over haphazardly thrown clothing.

"Not even a sarcastic remark, Nakiri? I must be losing my touch," he teases, automatically removing his jacket and loosening the tie of his uniform. He pauses momentarily, idly wondering when he became so accustomed to undressing upon entering her room, but hangs his clothing on her coatrack nonetheless. Approaching her from behind, he rests his hands on top of her shoulders, kneading the skin beneath her blouse with his thumbs. Her blazer and bow had already been discarded, he notes. She tenses upon contact, but quickly relaxes into his touch. "Or maybe you've just gotten used to me."

At his remark, she scoffs. "Oh please, no one but you is uncivilized enough to walk into a girl's room without knocking." Her tone is condescending, but the way her head reclines back against his abdomen, eyes closed, is ample evidence that she is enjoying his ministrations enough to not really care for his lack of manners.

"Why knock when you know I'm coming?"

"It's been a few days," she murmurs, her shoulders imperceptibly drooping. The action does not elude him. "Besides, what if I had been in the middle of changing?" He brushes her hair to one side and moves one of his thumbs to the back of her neck, rubbing circles along the side of her spine. Her head instinctively drops forward to give him better access.

"It would have been nothing I haven't seen before," he shrugs, the corner of his lips stretching upwards as he watches her skin redden beneath his fingertips.

" _Shut up,_ " she hisses, "You're just further proving my point about your incivility."

He merely chuckles, looking over her to take a look at her desk. As he predicted, the paper in front of her contains notes for their joint class, though other files are stacked neatly at the corner of her desk. He discerns that they're in English, but his knowledge of the language isn't proficient enough for him to read it upon a glance. He keeps the thought in the back of his head in case he wants to ask her about them later.

"Eeeeh, you look like you have your paper all planned out! You should let me copy it later," he jests, bringing his face next to hers to get a better look at her essay. She doesn't even flinch, but one of her eyes peek open at him.

"As if, Yukihira. Do your own work."

He supposes the fact that she hasn't moved away is a good indication that their relationship, whatever relationship that is, has progressed since their first year at Totsuki. _Two years can change a lot of people_.

And two years of being a classmate of Nakiri Erina has told him when something about her was off.

To be honest, he's been trying to rile her up all day, but Erina has been almost as absentminded as he is on a regular basis. She handed him the salt in their Mediterranean Cuisine class without any snide remarks, had seemed overly uncaring and wistful throughout their Food Safety and Regulation course, and just as their classes ended for the day, she gave him a long, observational stare when he bid her goodbye. He had wondered if it _was_ because he hadn't visited her the past few nights that she seemed so distant, though he really didn't think she thought that highly of him for it to affect her in such a way. Regardless, he had been set on seeing her after dinner ended.

"You knew I was helping Tadokoro," he starts slowly, gauging her reaction, "prepare for her cooking exam in Chappelle-sensei's class." He had told her ahead of time about it and hadn't thought much of it since. He doesn't try overly hard to avoid talking to her about his dormmate, but he also isn't so insensitive as to mention her unnecessarily.

"Yes, and if she wanted to pass, she would have been better off choosing someone other than you to taste test," she replies without missing a beat, any undercurrent of hostility absent. He knows despite what she thinks or feels about his relationship with the bluenette, she _does_ respect Tadokoro's skill as a chef. Not to mention that Tadokoro Megumi is generally a hard person not to like.

"Hey now, I _am_ the second seat," he says in mock offense, squeezing the hand on her shoulder still as if to affirm his position.

"I know," is her simple response, and it makes him all the more apprehensive. His fingers thread themselves through her hair to gently massage her scalp, the strands of strawberry-blonde a pleasant contrast to his skin. As far as innocent touches go, this is unquestionably her favorite. Hopefully it placates her before he starts his inquisition.

"Erina," he begins earnestly, using her first name to further emphasize his seriousness. With the way her body stiffens, he knows she catches his tone. "What's wrong?"

He realizes that he understands her better than he thought he did when she forces a sardonic laugh from her lips. "Wrong? Nothing's wrong with me, Yukihira. Stop assuming things and," she whips around in her chair to face him, stripping all contact he had with her, orchid eyes ablaze, "stop arrogantly asserting your presence in someone else's home."

He can't pinpoint exactly when he was able to recognize her lies, but the wall she puts up for the rest of the school population to see has just erected itself before him. He also doesn't remember the last time she blocked him out, and something in him aches at the sight.

"Erina-"

"When have I ever given you permission to call me by my first name?" she shouts, near hysterics, standing from her seat and jabbing her index finger into his chest. He can see the cracks in her wall already forming, and he's partly relieved, partly afraid.

"Erina," he says again, bringing his arms up to wrap around her frame and coax her to him. She breaks immediately, sobbing into him, shaking in a way he's only seen her do once before. He instantly knows the culprit, and it makes his blood boil. "What did your father do to you this time?"

He can feel her lips tremble through his button-up. "I don't want to talk about it right now," she mumbles stubbornly, hands clenching his shirt. He wants to protest because Nakiri Azami is a monster, and he's well acquainted with what that man is capable of.

Before he can even speak, she sinks into his arms, forcing him to bear her weight. "Make me feel better."

Her words came out like a demand but he knows upon looking at her that it was more of a plea. He suspects this isn't something that can be solved through physical means, but he reminds himself the reason he ever stepped foot inside her bedroom to begin with was because of his ability to help. Again, he contemplates not for the first time since he's entered her room today how _this_ part of their relationship came into bloom.

Nevertheless, he nods, gently lifting her up from under her knees with one arm and supporting her back with the other. He doesn't carry her often, but when he does, he can't help but notice how small and fragile she is. At school, she holds her head high and walks with such authority that even he occasionally forgets how vulnerable she can be. As he sets her down on her bed, making sure to rest her head on the pillow, he climbs over her and recognizes that she is indeed that – vulnerable.

Her eyes are still watery and cheeks still flushed from crying. He places a kiss on her forehead, trails down the side of her face, and sucks lightly at the sensitive spot on her throat. With practiced fingers, he begins unbuttoning her blouse, starting from the top and spreading the shirt wide open when he reaches the bottom. His hand glides over the taut skin of her abdomen before retreating to her upper back. Pulling away from her neck, darkened eyes sweep indiscreetly over her body before locking with hers.

"You're beautiful," he states, voice low, as if it's fact, and as far as he's concerned, it is. Her hair is splayed across the pillow, wild yet majestic. Her white blouse provides a stunning contrast to her pale skin, chest brandishing a rosy hue. Her sideburns, fierce and unlike any other he's ever seen, frame her face and accentuate her sharp features. Of course, there are the other assets she's been gifted with that he plans on fully appreciating tonight, including the ones currently caged in her light pink bra, but it's the ethereal glow that seems to envelope her whole body that leaves him breathless.

Upon hearing his words, she bites her lower lip, fresh tears brimming as she cups his face within her dainty hands.

"Kiss me," she whispers, and he obliges. His lips mold with hers like they've done hundreds, maybe thousands of times now, and he realizes he's missed them more than he ever would've thought after those few days they've been apart. Her moan comes instantaneously upon contact, her back arching slightly off the bed. He takes the opportunity to deftly unhook her bra and find homage on her breast, kneading it gently within his grip. She mewls in satisfaction at his touch.

She sits up, pushing him backwards, and he helps her discard her clothing between kisses. Holding her gaze, one hand travels up her thigh, hooking his fingers on her stocking and dragging it leisurely down her leg. A shiver runs down her spine as he repeats this action with her other leg, carefully caressing her skin with his knuckles and watching her eyes blacken in raw desire. He shifts to her skirt and tugs it off in one swift movement, amused when it catches on her foot. To hide her embarrassment, Erina works quickly with the buttons on his shirt, nudging it off his shoulders before focusing on his belt.

Her fingers fumble with the buckle, and he chuckles lightly before helping her with it and sliding out of his trousers. Automatically latching on to the planes of his torso, her hands glide over the ridges and lock together around his neck. She wrenches him in for another kiss, tongue slithering hotly over his lips before forcibly invading his mouth. Not that he minds, as his grip finds her ass and gives it a firm squeeze. This elicits a gasp from her and he presses her back onto the bed. His fingers drift up the space between her thighs and dips under her white panties. _She didn't match her underwear today_ , he observes, and he briefly wonders if she wasn't expecting him.

His middle finger finds the nub between her folds and rubs gentle circles around it. Hearing her breath hitch at his touch, he suppresses the growl bubbling in his throat. He watches as her face scrunches up in pleasure, and takes comfort in the fact that, even if it's only temporary, she isn't sad anymore.

His teeth graze one of her nipples while his free hand plays with the other. She releases a whimper as her hands dig into his hair and tug at his roots. " _Soma,_ " she breathes, and he relishes in the sound of his name rolling off her tongue.

 _She's plenty wet now_ , he notes, his fingers sliding into her. Her hips jerk at the intrusion, but he steadies her with the weight of his body. He doesn't need to see her expression to know that she's pursing her lips to refrain from screaming as his digits pump in and out of her. Her walls are clamping down on him even as her legs spread wider, and he kisses her to swallow the moan of her release as she comes down from her high. She's still dazed when he withdraws from her to shimmy her out of her panties and he, his boxers.

"Feeling better?" he asks, kissing the palm of her hand as he aligns himself with her body. She stares at the oddly affectionate action and a blush that has nothing to do with their sexual intimacy color her cheeks. It's solely at her reaction that he comprehends he did something out of the ordinary, but it doesn't strike him as being wrong. "Erina?"

Remembering that he had asked her a question, she quickly nods. She glances down at his hard member and encircles her hand around it. This time, he allows the growl to escape as she grips him firmly, twisting her hand up and down his erection. A small smirk plays on her lips. "But we're definitely not finished yet."

He wants nothing more than to immediately bury himself inside her, but something tells him that today is not the time for that. Instead, he captures her lips again, securing his arms beneath her knees and spreading her legs wide as he slips into her. Her eyes instantly shut, lips parting in a noiseless gasp, hips rising off the bed. He groans when he's all the way inside her, pulling out slowly before pushing in again. Her slender legs wrap around his waist as he collects her in his arms, placing feather-light kisses at the crook of her neck. He increases his rhythm when he feels her squeeze his torso, hips bucking eagerly to match his.

Usually, he teases her more, making her beg for her release, or encourages her to try different positions. But something about today has made him think about things he doesn't usually ponder about and do things he doesn't usually care to do. So when she says "harder," he follows, and when she commands "faster," he obliges. He has the urge to please her, and he realizes, despite how long and how many times they've slept together, that this is the closest to "making love" they've ever been.

The thought almost makes him pause in his movements, but the desire to not disappoint her keeps him going. Erina, and maybe Soma as well, have always been careful every time they've had sex. Never too close, never too affectionate, because they weren't like that – they weren't in love. He couldn't remember their reasoning for starting and continuing this little tryst, but it hasn't once crossed his mind to stop. He may have tried to convince himself that he needed her to remain stable, as to not jeopardize her talent, or else he wouldn't be satisfied when he takes the first seat from her; but who was he kidding? She's never needed someone else to boost her skills as a chef.

He pushes his thoughts aside, pace unfaltering as he continues thrusting in and out of her. Her arms are wrapped around his upper torso, nails digging into his skin. He refuses to admit it out loud, but the feeling of her nails scraping down his back arouses him even more, causing his hips to jolt roughly against hers. She cries out, arching into him, as if she's baring her generous chest and creamy, smooth neck in offering to him. He bends his head down to nip her right above her collarbone, and the strangled moan it elicited is a kind he seldom hears. " _Erina,_ " he groans into her ears, and he feels her vaginal walls contract around his member.

She's close and he's not too far behind. He thrusts harder, penetrating her as deep as he can, before pulling out only to ram into her again. Her whole body clenches around him and his name is a mantra on her lips. When she climaxes, she does so like a crushing wave, her whole being writhing beneath him, and he's not sure his mouth was effective in muffling her scream this time around. He follows soon after, jerking out of her and finishing onto her stomach. Chests heaving, they take a moment to catch their breaths, slightly dazed but still fixated on the other. He grabs some tissues from her nightstand, strategically placed for this occasion, and wipes his semen off her skin. Keeping his elbows bent just enough to support his own weight, he collapses on top of her, head buried in her neck as he breathes in her natural scent. Her hands reach up to play lazily with the locks in his hair.

With every caress of her fingers, the palpitations of his heart slow to a steady beat. He's the one that's supposed to be making her feel better, but he feels an undeniable soft calm with her nestled in his arms. Had three days away really made him lax with her? He doesn't think so, considering their first meetup post summer break was more rough than gentle. Hesitantly, he rolls off of her, drawing her to him and resting his head on top of hers. Since he's already thinking things he doesn't usually pay mind to, he admits that there's a comfort in being connected to her that he's never noticed before.

"Yukihira-kun," she mutters into his chest, effectively breaking his reverie, "Thank you."

It's he who tenses this time around. He pulls away to look down at her, possibly preparing to ask about her father again, simply to find her breathing evenly, fast asleep. _She's pretty cute like this_ , he smiles to himself, gingerly tracing patterns down her spine. Something about her unguarded expression warms him, and he falls asleep with his fingers lingering on the small of her back.

It's still dark outside when he wakes up, though he's not sure how long they've been asleep. They've shifted out of their embrace sometime during the night, and Erina is now an arm's length away with her back to him. He briefly watches her, appreciating her bare, porcelain skin bathed in the moonlight from the back and halo-like glow from her desk lamp in the front. He's reaching out to touch her, intent on dragging her to him again, when she speaks up.

"Don't," she says curtly, but he can already hear the desolation in her voice. Turning onto her back, she stares at the ceiling, expression clouded and incredibly unreadable. His stomach churns in uncertainty.

"Soma-kun," she starts, still not looking him, so she doesn't see how his eyes widen at the sound of his name. The only time she _ever_ calls him by his first name is during sex, and although he wants to be happy about it, he knows he's going to be anything but.

Finally, almost unnoticeably, she turns her head. Her gaze shifts towards him, as if trying to discern _his_ expression, before closing her eyes momentarily. When she opens them, they're glossy, the purplish-pink hue scintillating like the stars outside in an anguished augury. Gorgeous and enrapturing, they only foretell despair.

"I'm leaving Totsuki."

* * *

 **Word Count:** 3252

 **Special Thanks:** To **| Hypocrisy |** for proofreading this for me after my first run through! This was my first time writing a sex scene, so I was incredibly nervous about it, and Hypo was very encouraging! Also, SUPER-HUGE thanks to **my fiancé** for fixing a bunch of stuff with me! He's read my original works before, but never a fanfic, and I was very flustered as he read this (and he insisted on reading it _out loud!)._ He's wonderfully supportive though, despite not even being into fanfics. But that's why I'm marrying him. ;)

SO. _HELLO EVERYONE_. Sorry for being MIA for so long, and sorry that there's yet to be an update for "Savior" (for anyone still interested in that). I have over half of it written but I'm just not feeling it? (Meanwhile, I'm writing a bunch of one-shots *cough*) BUT. I hope you enjoyed this fic. I'm just going to throw all my one-shots in here, and sometimes they'll be follow-ups of previous stories, but more often than not, they'll stand alone.

 **THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO HAS REVIEWED** "Savior" OR "Whispers"! I appreciate EVERYONE'S feedback, all good and bad, and I take them ALL into account when I write. So THANK YOU, THANK YOU! Now, with that said…

 **PLEASE REVIEW**. This is my first lemon/smut and **_I LOVE FEEDBACK_**. Were they sufficiently in character? Did the sex make you cringe or smile? What worked, what didn't work? I also take grammatical corrections. (: Let me know all your thoughts~!

Thanks for reading!

-Intangibly Yours


	2. Whispers II

**Kaleidoscope – Whispers II**

 **Disclaimer:** Still don't own a thing from this series.

 **A/N:** What? An update? No way! -.- Anyway, this is SUPPOSED to be a collection of DIFFERENT one-shots, but somehow I ended up doing the same story back-to-back, so here you are. I may or may not make this its own separate fic.

* * *

Their exchange the night before flashes in his memory the moment he sets his eyes on her.

 _His mouth was hanging slightly agape, but no words passed through his lips. He wasn't sure what he was expecting to hear, but_ that _had not been a possibility._

 _"What's the matter, Yukihira? Shouldn't you be happy? Now, you don't have to choose."_

 _"Choose?" he asked stupidly, unnecessarily, habitually._

 _She merely smiled bitterly and rolled away from him. He wanted to reach out to her, to tell her to come back, but his hand remained frozen at his side. "Don't," she had said to him._

 _"I'm sure you know how to show yourself out."_

They sit next to each other in all their shared classes, something that probably occurred more subconsciously than not. For a pair of people not on the greatest terms, they certainly had a tendency to drift towards one another. He never minded the proximity, but his routine is about to be disrupted and he doesn't know how to salvage it. He elects to mimic his usual casualness.

"Yo, Nakiri! Did you finish that essay?" he grins cheekily, pulling out his chair and situating himself next to her. For a second, he sees her seat flash empty, and his smile falters just a bit.

"Yukihira," Erina greets slowly, eyeing him cautiously. "What does my progress on my assignment have to do with you?"

He leans in closer, catching her scent, and nearly reels back. She had never been one to drench herself in perfumes, but her natural fragrance sends an aching familiarity through him that, he now notes, won't always be there anymore.

"Hmm, thought maybe you could let me copy it later," he jokes lightly, pulling away to put some distance between them.

His action doesn't go unnoticed, and she studies him briefly before responding in tedium, "As if, Yukihira. Do your own work."

* * *

When he finishes dinner that night, he considers visiting Erina. He pauses at the front door, hand grasping the knob, and ponders yet again how the strawberry-blonde with a tsundere streak managed to wiggle herself into his life. She is so ingrained in his everyday life that his body naturally seeks to be near her. But what is he to do when she's no longer around? When he can't reach her via a short bike ride anymore?

It's then that he hears the clamoring of dishes in the kitchen, and he sidles towards the noise for the needed distraction. There, he finds Tadokoro cleaning up the remnants of dinner. She doesn't see him right away, so he takes a minute to appreciate the hard work she puts into everything she does, including mundane tasks such as washing plates and bowls.

Tadokoro Megumi is beautiful in her own way. She's a shining ray of purity, an angel descended from the heavens to spread warmth and love to all she touches. While she isn't always confident about herself, she provides unwavering support for her friends. Her laughter and optimism is contagious. Surely, any guy would be beyond lucky to claim her as his. He knows this.

Leaning against the doorway, the rickety frame squeaks to alert her of his presence, and she makes a similar noise upon hearing it. "S-Soma-kun! What are you doing here?"

So kind, so gentle, so constant. He knows Tadokoro will always be there for him. "Do you need any help with the dishes?"

"A-Ah, you don't have to," she replies selflessly, as flustered as she always is when she's alone with him. She averts her gaze and stares at the soap-filled sink, and he suspects she's wringing her hands beneath the suds. "D-Don't you have somewhere to go?"

He stops himself before he can wonder how much of his routine she's aware of. "No, not today."

* * *

He doesn't sit next to Erina anymore. In fact, he places himself a few seats away so that it's difficult for him to even glimpse her. He hasn't been to her room since the night she told him of her departure either, and that was a week ago.

They also do not speak to each other unless it's to exchange simple pleasantries when it comes to Elite Ten matters. While it's nothing ostentatious, rumors about them being in a fight flourishes throughout the younger generations.

Because two days after changing seats, Erina approaches him about ditching meetings for the council. He answers as if she isn't actually asking about his behavior.

On the third day, he walks Tadokoro Megumi to class and is deliberately late to his own.

On the fourth, he eats lunch with Tadokoro, does council work with her, and gives her a ride home on his bike.

He had always gone to school with Tadokoro, but now he does everything with her, and everyone notices.

* * *

He finds her sitting cross legged on the desk of an empty lecture hall. She has one arm draped over her abdomen and the other is propped on top of it, holding a book within her hand. He recognizes it to be the latest shoujo manga series she's been obsessing over. Normally, he'd tease her for indulging in such commoner activities, but nothing about their current situation is typical.

"Nakiri," he greets in mock surprise. She flips the page of her comic. "Fancy meeting you here. What a strange coincidence."

But he knows it's not by chance that she was waiting for him in the classroom he frequented during his break. Afterall, she's been there a number of times herself, and those memories replay vividly in his head.

However, unlike their previous meetings here, he doesn't intend for it to end in a love affair.

She acknowledges his arrival only when he shuts the door behind him, lowering the manga to her lap. Her orchid eyes observe him with reticent disdain and he masks his with stringent apathy.

She speaks first.

"So?" Her tone is curt and crisp as she holds his gaze.

"So, what?" he says, feigning ignorance. He leans against the wall just left of the door, effectively staying hidden should any curious eyes peer through its small window.

Erina looks displeased, but continues, her finely manicured nails crinkling the cover of her book. "So...That's it? I tell you I'm leaving and you just...disappear?"

"I haven't gone anywhere."

Without hesitating, she chucks her book at him, impatience lacing through her words. "Drop the act, Yukihira. You know what I'm talking about."

He catches the manga effortlessly.

Images of her pressed beneath him on that very table, legs spread to accommodate his intrusion, swim across his vision and beg him to call a ceasefire on the separation he's imposing on the two of them. He craves to touch her, but his body won't move and she won't always be there. He can't justify the continuation of their rendezvous beyond his blatant desire to be next to her.

"Why does it matter?" he shrugs carelessly, albeit slightly vexed, tossing the book back to its owner. "Wasn't it always a temporary thing?"

She momentarily grows flustered, scrambling to catch the paperback, and had the scenario been different, he would've found it endearing. But since it is what it is, he capitalizes on her reaction.

"Nakiri," he starts, careful to drag out the pause to emphasize his fabricated epiphany, "You didn't think it was more than that, did you?"

Her face turns deathly pale in pure horror and trepidation. "A- _Absolutely not!_ "

"Whew," he sighs in relief, exaggeratingly wiping the sweat from his brow, "Because it was a pretty convenient arrangement for me too."

She's unable to keep the waver out of her voice. "Convenient?"

He approaches her then, finally, and in one swift movement, spreads her thighs apart by her knees. She's too stunned to resist as he comes between her legs, hitching one on his hip, and anchors her back to the desk with his weight.

"So convenient," he whispers lowly into her ear, fingers imprinting themselves in her flesh. His lips skim down the length of her neck, and his free hand plays with the buttons on her blouse, threatening to undo them with the flick of a wrist. In a panic, she shoves him off her.

The contempt in her eyes hits him like a punch to his gut.

"What was I thinking?" he chuckles humorlessly, straightening and willing himself to go through with his ruse. "Of course you wouldn't fall for me. You're not like Tadokoro."

He can almost feel the way her blood runs cold as her pupils constrict and her expression morphs from disgust to disbelief to utter detachment. The assumptions she draws from his word are akin to locking her back in the cage he's been coaxing her out of, and while regret seeps through the pores of his skin, he doesn't attempt to reconcile her misunderstandings.

She tucks her comic book tightly within her arms and pushes herself off the desk and onto her feet.

"I see," she murmurs, regarding him impassively. He catches the wry smile on her face as she turns away. "Guess I was never good enough for you, was I?"

He forces himself not to follow as she brushes past him and exits the room.

* * *

"You don't need to walk me to every class, Soma-kun," Tadokoro giggles pleasantly. Her delight radiates from every part of her, from her gleaming, sundrop eyes to the bounce in her steps. It lifts his spirit, and he nearly convinces himself that this is where he's meant to be.

"It's not _every_ class. Besides, I have a free period right now," he reasons lightheartedly. He glances at their hands dangling side-by-side, and wonders how different her dainty fingers would feel between his, compared to the ones that would tightly grasp onto him in need. The marks _she_ left on his skin are probably gone now, he realizes.

He looks ahead and his stomach uncomfortably churns. He sees her approaching from the other end of the hall, and he knows she spotted him as well when she lifts her chin up just a little higher. He wants to laugh; her ability to exude confidence despite feeling otherwise is enviable.

He supposes they aren't that different after all.

Hands in his pockets and attention purposely set on his dormmate, he strolls past her like she isn't there.

He pretends that he doesn't see the way Arato Hisako glowers at him, demanding acknowledgment. He pretends he doesn't hear the increase in whispers from the surrounding student body. He smiles at Tadokoro when she tugs worriedly at his sleeve, and innocently asks her what's wrong. She is too courteous and too timid to voice what everyone else is thinking, and for that, he is thankful.

He pretends he doesn't know what he is doing to the First Seat who's clutching her books just a bit closer to her chest.

* * *

He and Tadokoro are on their way back to the dorm when she questions him.

"Is…everything alright? Between you and…Nakiri-san?"

He puts on a placid front, slinging his case of knives over his shoulders. "Hmm? Of course. Why wouldn't it be?"

She twiddles her thumbs anxiously, toes shifting inward. "You guys don't…talk anymore, it seems."

There's a jolt inside his chest that he rushes to bury before he can identify what it is.

"We never had that kind of relationship to begin with."

Though spoken truthfully, he instantaneously recognizes the flaw in his choice of words when all he hears is a quiet lull. She's no longer next to him, and he turns around to find her appearing rather apprehensive.

And then he sees it: the autumn leaves falling gracefully around the girl whose blue hair is fluttering like wings in the wind. They encircle her, a medley of red, orange, and yellow augmenting the beauty that is typically hidden behind a demure temperament. It's exquisite, and the very antithesis of the storm that wontedly ensnares him.

"What kind of relationship _do_ you have with her, Soma-kun?" she asks mutely, the blood draining from the knuckles on her hands as she grips her own bag. There's a hopeful tinge in her tone, and she waits with bated breath for his response. She loves him; he _knows_ this, and so he pushes the image of the girl with the sassy tongue and fearless conviction aside in favor of the one standing before him now.

"Not like us."

Like a moth to a flame, he closes the distance between them with a few short strides. Her eyes, so bright and a near mirror of his, enlarge in astonishment. Weaving his fingers through her cobalt locks and tugging her flushed against him, he seals his lips over hers with empty promises.

The ache within his rib cage amplifies.

* * *

Erina finally calls for a meeting with all the Elite Ten members. For the first time in years, the whole council is made up of third years.

Being the Second Seat, Soma is situated to the right of Erina, much to her chagrin.

"Good afternoon, everyone. Thank you for coming." The First Seat taps a small pile of paper onto the table, straightening it, before laying it down. "I know it's sudden, but I have an announcement to make."

Across from him, the Third Seat, Hayama Akira, raises an eyebrow. "We're not making changes to the Fall Elections, are we?"

"No, but it will affect it." Erina hands the stack of papers to Hayama, for him to take one and pass along. "After the elections are over and done with, I will be transferring out of Totsuki to pursue my culinary education abroad."

Nakiri Alice, Sixth Seat, bangs her fists on the table and stands, her chair screeching harshly on the wooden floor. "What? Why? This isn't another plan Uncle Azami has concocted for you, is it?"

Soma struggles to refrain from snorting. _Correct._

"No, Alice, I assure you it's my own choice," Erina calmly states, and he almost chokes on his own spit. _What? That's not right._

"Eh? You're leaving?" he says instead, feigning bewilderment. He leans back in his chair, hands laced behind his head to hide the rigidity in his fingers. "Does that mean I inherit the first seat?"

Soma has always prided himself on being observant, yet even he is surprised at how well he catches the tremble in her lips before she speaks. "Absolutely not. I will be accepting all shokugekis for my spot up until the week before my departure. If you look at the paper I gave you," she stares pointedly at him as Tadokoro passes the sheet to him, "it will include the slight change in responsibilities to accommodate the increase in challenges I'm anticipating."

"And what if no one beats you?" Aldini Takumi, Eighth Seat, inquires. Soma interrupts before she can reply.

"Don't worry, that won't happen," he smirks, cockily, grateful for the distraction from the strawberry-blonde as the ten seats rile up in a debate.

* * *

Alice catches him outside the meeting room, hand slamming into the wall as if to block his escape route. A fruitless effort; he doesn't intend to run, but she won't get the response she's searching for either.

"You knew, didn't you?" she demands, pale face glowing red in fury. Kurokiba Ryo stands silently beside her, slouched over with his hands in his pockets. However, Soma can feel his inquisitive gaze beneath the usual aloofness. "That's why the two of you have been acting strange lately."

It's frightening how accurate the molecular gastronomist could be. "She mentioned it in passing the other day," he shrugs, and immediately Alice grabs a fistful of his shirt and jerks him down to her eye level.

"So what are you doing?" Her tone is low and threatening, crimson orbs brimming with tears. To say she's livid would've been an understatement. He considers playing dumb, but she's looking at him like she's staring straight into his soul. He's a bit too astounded to say anything, honestly, yet whatever she saw has her grinding her teeth. "You're not giving up on her, are you!?"

Before he can retort, a hand reaches between them and settles on top of Alice's. For a split second, he thinks it's Kurokiba intervening, but the fingers are too elegant and effeminate to be his. It makes him freeze up; he thought she had left with Hishoko already.

"Alice," Erina soothes, voice steady, gently loosening her cousin's grip on his clothes, "There's no need for you to waste your time on a lowly being like him. Why don't we grab dinner? I'm sure you have a lot to say to me."

Instantly, Alice's mood shifts, and she's back to her usual self, pouting to the blonde. "You're so mean, Erina! How could you not tell me that you're leaving?" She clings onto her cousin's arm and leads her away, the Fourth Seat trailing diligently behind.

Soma knows she's simply trying to not put more stress on Erina, and the evil eye she shoots at him as the three of them round the corner is a warning of his demise. He doesn't care though, because Alice is just being a loving cousin, and Kurokiba is just being supportive of his girlfriend.

But Erina did not spare him a glance during the entire exchange, and suddenly, he feels sick.

* * *

It's a bit harder being in the Polar Star dorm once the news of the Nakiri Erina's departure went public. Speculations about him and the First Seat spread like wildfire, and even the first years in his dorm, who used to have the utmost faith in him, shoot him doubtful looks during dinner. Consequently, he shows up a little later, and only Tadokoro stays with him until he finishes his meal.

"Soma-kun..." Tadokoro starts carefully, and the uncertainty in her eyes is clear. He knows what she wants to ask: how long he's known about Erina, and if it correlates with his actions recently. But he doesn't have an answer for her, doesn't _want_ to answer her.

So he takes a mouthful of his meal, looking at her in acknowledgment as he chews just a little louder. He grins brightly through stuffed cheeks, hoping to hide his own indecision.

She looks startled, arms tucked to her chest. "A-Ah, how's the food?"

"It's delicious! You really are a great cook, Tadokoro!"

"Thank you, Soma-kun," she replies shyly, scrunching up her skirt within her palms. "Um, you know, you can always talk to me…about anything. I'll listen." Suddenly, her eyes widen, as if she caught herself overstepping boundaries, and her hands shoot up in defense. "O-Only if you want to, of course!"

He thinks how easy it would be to love her. Sweet Megumi, loving Megumi. Small town guy with the small town girl, right? So, _so_ easy...

He hopes she doesn't catch the way his fingers tighten around his chopsticks even as he smiles kindly at her.

"Tadokoro…Thanks. You always seem to know how to make me feel better."

The smile she returns is wistful; her eyes somber.

* * *

"You know, you're driving a wedge between the Elite Ten," Takumi voices nonchalantly, effectively summarizing the past week, "And probably the whole school, too, now that I think about it."

It's lunchtime, mere days after Erina's announcement, and Soma figured eating with a guy lessens the likelihood of having to discuss his current predicament. Apparently, he was wrong, and so he tries to make light of his own frustrations. "I don't understand why. It's not that big of a deal." _Nor their business_ , he finishes mentally, picking at the food in his bento box. Sausages, eggs, and an onigiri.

"You're right, it's not our business," the blond affirms, absentmindedly twirling his pasta around his fork and resting his chin on his propped up hand. While Soma is stunned—he's sure he hadn't spoken that last part out loud—Takumi looks bored. "But as friends, it does affect us." Taking a large bite of the noodles, he points his now spotless fork at the redhead. "Besides, the three of you are as obvious as a circus parade."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Soma deadpans, glaring indiscreetly at his friend from across the table. Takumi remains unfazed.

"No one may know the exact _details_ of your relationships, but one thing is for sure: you need to make a choice. Tadokoro doesn't deserve your asinine treatment and Nakiri will leave you behind if you don't say anything."

At the reminder of her departure, Soma tenses. She was one of the first people he met at the academy, and she was his initial motivation to thrive there. She still hasn't even praised one of his dishes! How will he catch up to her if she leaves? Would he truly be the same without her there to fuel his ambition?

"So what if she's leaving?" he grumbles, grabbing a sausage between his chopsticks and popping it into his mouth. "It doesn't affect me all that much."

Instead of answering the question, the older Aldini brother begins packing up his lunch. "While the First Seat is amazing on her own, I think you considerably helped push her to where she is now."

 _What in the world—_

"Just as she did you."

 _Damn mind reader._

* * *

He sees it during their _Regulations_ course. It's barely noticeable, but it's there: a purplish-blue discoloration wrapping around her wrist. It makes his heart constrict and dread pool at the bottom of his stomach, and immediately, he curses himself for not being more attentive.

It's difficult, near impossible really, to catch her without her aide, especially now that they're never-that-great relationship had taken a dive off the deep end (his fault, he knows), yet he manages to corner her on her way to the council room.

He had known she would be shocked, but he is completely unprepared for the terror that crosses her visage. Her face is white, lips quivering as she searches for words to speak. He can see the sweat forming on her forehead.

He pauses, but pushes through, slowly reaching out to cradle her forearm and lift the sleeve of her jacket. "Erina, what's this? Did your father do this to you?" His tone is borderline murderous, and even he is startled at how angry he is. He makes the mistake of tracing the mark, and she snatches her hand back.

He's unable to differentiate whether the pained look in her eyes is caused by him or Azami. Perhaps she can't tell the difference either.

The realization hits him like a wrecking ball and he steps forward, wanting to be the one to caress her, console her, hold her. But she flinches away, pressing further into the wall behind her, and the dull compression in his chest becomes a stabbing agony.

"Erina, I'm sorry." The words tumble out of him before he can stop them, but he can't stand her looking at him like that. "I didn't mean to—"

Then, as if something inside her snaps, the blood rushes to her face and her eyes narrow in slits at him. The expression she's giving him is chilling, cold and emotionless, and he's desperate for the warmth he's accustomed to from her.

" _Get out of my way, Yukihira_ ," she spat vehemently. The degree of hostility and resentfulness stops him in his tracks, and she takes the opportunity to slip past him.

* * *

"Have you ever hurt someone without meaning to?" Soma asks, tugging at the roots of his hair as his head rests on his palms. He doesn't know how long he's been sitting there, but it feels like hours, and he assumes it's approximately midnight by now.

Tadokoro has been sitting dutifully across the kitchen table ever since he dragged himself home. He was late to dinner, again, but she waited for his arrival to eat together with him. When he refused to go up to his room, she brought her homework down to busy herself with. He thinks she's too kind, close to a fault.

He hears her pencil stop moving mid-sentence as she gives him her undivided attention.

"Um, well, I'm not sure—"

He doesn't let her finish. "It wasn't that I was completely unaware. I just didn't mean to go that far."

There's a creak in the chair as she bolts upright. "You hurt this person...on purpose?"

"...Yeah. I did."

"Why?"

He stares past her and sees the reflection of himself in the window. His hair is disheveled, dark circles are forming beneath his eyes, and he looks down right miserable. He finds it a tad comical; how could he have gone through summer break effortlessly yet not withstand mere weeks away from _her_?

"We had a problem that I didn't want to face."

He technically has many problems that he's been unabashedly avoiding, and from the way Tadokoro chews on her bottom lip, he can tell she's unsure which situation - with her or Erina - he's talking about. He suppresses a cringe; he has to tread carefully to minimize any repercussions.

"I'm sure...if you talk to this person, they'll understand."

The suggestion elicits a bitter laugh from him, and he thinks back to his last encounter with Erina. "I don't think I can stand seeing her look at me like that again."

Eyes widening in realization before darkening in bereavement, Tadokoro swallows inaudibly, forcing herself to ask, "Her…Are you talking about Nakiri-san?"

It's his moment of truth. He knows he can't stall the upcoming conversation any longer. "Yes."

"Is it because she's leaving?"

"Yes."

"Did you know?" _Before you kissed me?_ "Before she announced it at the meeting?"

"...I did."

"Do you love her?"

"I…No? I don't know. I never thought about it. We didn't have that kind of relationship." He can almost feel Tadokoro wince at his familiar response.

Her hands wring together as she considers her next words. "You're different now, Soma-kun," she begins unsurely, as if speaking those thoughts made them all the more real. The look she bears is one of resignation. "Suddenly, you're always beside me, always keeping me company as I go to class or run errands. And at first, it made me really happy. But when you looked at me, you weren't really there; you were troubled with something. It wasn't until the announcement that I realized why."

She pauses, inhales, and releases a shuddering breath.

"But it's okay." Soma tilts his head in confusion, but she continues unfazed. "I can support you, if you'll let me."

The air is suddenly thick, hot, and muddy. He knows she's offering herself to him, had always known she would if he's being honest. But when he looks ahead, it isn't her he sees by his side, pushing and guiding him. It isn't her that he finds himself seeking and reaching out to. It isn't her that flashes in his mind when he pictures his future.

As if she saw what he saw, she turns away from him, her chair scraping lightly on the kitchen floor.

"Is it because…I'm too soft spoken?"

He jerks his head up, the whiplash nearly snapping his neck.

"Tadokoro…What are you…?"

"I'm not strong or brave. I'm not gifted with unprecedented talent. My cooking…satisfies Totsuki's requirements, but next to _hers_ , they can't even be compared."

Bile rises in his throat as he listens, fists clenching by his side. Tadokoro Megumi had gone a long way, achieved milestones among milestones, since he first met her. To see her speak of herself in such a demeaning manner makes his stomach churn sickeningly.

He all but jumps out of his chair, taking two, big strides to her and pulling her into his arms. "You _are_ strong! And your cooking has always been amazing! All you needed was confidence. Once you had that, everyone recognized your abilities as a chef!"

"It's because of you, Soma-kun," she exhales, weakly grabbing onto his shirt, her weight precariously balanced between her core and his hold, "that I gained that confidence. Without you, I would have failed out long ago."

"That's not true-"

"You were my anchor to Totsuki. You showed me what path to take and encouraged me to keep moving forward. I could have never thanked you enough for that, but I," her fingers pinch the fabric a little more roughly, "I always wanted to become someone that could stand next to you."

He takes her by the shoulder and shakes her lightly until she's looking at him. "You always were! You're not inferior to anyone, Tadokoro!"

She stares at him with disbelieving eyes. "Nakiri-san is so graceful and forward. She doesn't hesitate to go after what she wants."

Her eyes bore into his, and he sees what she won't ask.

 _Why her?_

"If I…If I was assertive too, would you look at me the way you do her?"

"Tadokoro, stop-"

"If I became a challenge to you, would it make you want to chase after me?"

 _Why not me?_

"I didn't-"

"If I wasn't so plain, if I could stand out of the crowd, would you have chosen me to love?"

He thought she had been content with how she was, with the kindness and values her hometown had instilled in her, but he never noticed how she scrutinized herself, how she mentally picked herself apart to fit him, to go as far as think that emulating another persona would draw him to her.

He feels like a jerk. An inconsiderate, selfish, lowly pile of dirt. He wants to tell her that she's beautiful and out of this world, that her laughter both calms and brightens everyone's mood. Yet, while it's true, he knows that's not what she wants to hear.

But he can't give her what she wants. He thought he could, but it's not her he aches to touch, not her that invades his thoughts night and day, not her that he strives to please when he's in front of the stove. And she deserves more than someone who would only love her half-heartedly.

"Tadokoro…I'm sorry."

Her lips are quivering, a sad smile tugging at the corner in which they meet. Her eyes shimmer in restrained despair and desperate hope.

"Won't you let me try?"

She's on her tiptoes, pressing her lips firmly to his, but the action is still meek, so Tadokoro-like, that when he kisses her back, it's out of commiseration, and not passion, not love.

"Why am I never good enough?" she whispers shakily against his lips before pulling away and lowering to her original height, eyes refusing to meet his gaze as they remained downcast. The tears come instantly, torrenting down her cheeks like a raging waterfall, and the words on the tip of his tongue, meant to console her, die like the sun's ray dipping under the horizon.

So he envelops her in his arms, holding her steady as sobs wracked her body. Her tiny hands clutch mercilessly at his sweater, grip tightening and loosening, only to tighten again. Against the moistness on his skin, soaking from his wrinkled shirt and negligence, he can feel her heart breaking.

* * *

He takes his old seat next to Erina in class today. She's beyond startled, repulsed even, and looks tempted to cause a scene if it weren't for the increase in onlookers. However, Nakiri Erina is nothing if not prideful, and she settles for seething at him through gritted teeth.

" _What_ kind of game are you playing?"

He props his legs on the table and leans back in his chair. Giving her a deceptively carefree look, he answers quite seriously, "I'm not playing any games. Not anymore at least."

She's burning to protest, to let him have it, to give him an earful of how despicable of a person he is, and he knows he deserves every insult she would've hurled at him.

But the teacher walks in, and with great hesitance and regret, she turns forward in her seat and remains silent

"I really am sorry, Erina," he whispers to her, watching her from his peripheral. The only indication he receives that she hears him is the pause in her note-taking.

He's relieved she hasn't moved away from him.

* * *

He's outside her room, knuckles ready to rap on her door, when he decides to just trudge in instead. It's been three weeks of them acting like strangers, and he doesn't want to add this small detail to the list.

Nonetheless, his timing is either ridiculously spot on or atrociously off, because the door swings open to reveal the Totsuki Princess clad in nothing but her undergarments. Her scream is imminent, and he instinctively shuts the door behind him to muffle the noise from the rest of the household. Displeased, her cheeks flame crimson, and she grabs her discarded blazer in an attempt to cover herself up.

"Y-Yukihira! What have I told you about knocking before walking into a girl's room?" she scolds, and for a moment, there's a simulation of normalcy that appeases him.

"I only walk into yours, and again, nothing I haven't seen before," he teases, but his words are honest. The casualness he has with her is with her alone.

She still looks embarrassed, staring at him defiantly, but the silence quickly sobers her up. She drops her school uniform, brushing by him to hang it on the coatrack before going to her dresser to pull out a light blue slip. Tugging on her nightgown, she takes a seat on her bed, arms crossing over her bust as she regards him with caution. It's difficult for him to not picture the various times he shared the space with her.

"Well?" she demands, tapping her foot impatiently. "What are you here for?"

He blames his habits for his want to touch her, to skim his hand up her leg and trail his lips from her exposed shoulder to her ear. He knows how to make her head drop backwards and her chest arch forward, knows what makes her toes curl and fingers dig into the sheets. Her soft and supple skins molds into his body like water does to the earth, and her breathy moans are caused by him, and no one else. Never anyone else.

He suspects the feeling of possessiveness comes about when one is afraid to lose something, and he's certainly very terrified of losing her.

Steeling his resolve, he meets her gaze with unrivaled confidence.

"I want to challenge you to a shokugeki."

* * *

 **Word Count:** 5756

 **Special Thanks:** SUPER DUPER HUGE THANKS to **_applecherry_** for proofreading this a year ago, and again recently. Her feedback has been invaluable and she's just awesome in general! Also, another big thank you to **| Hypocrisy |** for reading through this awhile back and sharing his thoughts on it with me! I don't know what I would do without you guys! My fiancé (yeah, still not married yet, but we have a date! But it won't be until next year :X) refused to proofread this chapter because I told him Megu gets rejected. Did I mention that he's a SoMegu supporter? Whoops.

And of course, **THANK YOU FOR ALL YOUR REVIEWS**! You guys are amazing, and I apologize for taking so long to update! I really appreciate all your continued support. Hopefully you guys enjoyed this chapter too. The previous chapter was just meant to be a one-shot for me to work on writing smut, but your encouragements prompted me to write more. I'm still trying things out, hence the difference in the way this part was written. Should another chapter come along, I'm thinking it will be in Erina's POV. As for this one, I hope you all hated Soma. XD

As always, **PLEASE REVIEW**. You know I love getting feedback, and I love, love, love that you guys take the time to do so!

Thank you so much for reading!

-Intangibly Yours


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